


connor

by ellisonjpine



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Gen, Leather Jackets, Smoking, car crash, poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 13:05:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17560961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellisonjpine/pseuds/ellisonjpine
Summary: a poem for connor murphyangel, devil, son and brother.





	connor

he is born with stubs for horns  
a swishy little tail  
claws that prick and peck at his mother’s arms

they coo over him,  
adorable, harmless

his sister is white-winged and glistening  
with the light of her halo  
and the force of a thousand choirs

 

he is normal, for the most part.  
they never treat him badly  
how could you be angry at the burn stains on your carpet  
when your little monster looks at you with those eyes?

 

he is 12  
his hair, at his ears, is a roaring flame  
smouldering the air where he stands

leather jacket, dark and patchless  
brand new  
comes up to his fingertips

he walks out of the house one night  
buys a pack of cigarettes from behind a 7/11  
steals his sister’s nail polish, her cheap plastic jewellery

a king.

 

all the other girls and boys  
look at him  
as if they could hold buckets of water large enough  
to douse his fire.

they dare to speak back, and only step down  
when the lick of scalding embers  
spit out of his mouth

 

and they take him to the principal  
for the third time this month

 

he comes back, 13, with a prescription for antidepressants  
devil’s horns thick and sharp  
bubbling magma under his skin, hotter than before

 

he is 16  
hair up to his shoulders in his driver’s license photo  
his old jacket, with no leather unmarked

his nails are dark, deep, chipped and worn  
his rings are silver, metallic, and taste like men’s blood  
he feels reborn

his family corner him and he fights back  
neither and both in the wrong

he doesn’t need to use his fangs to hurt people when his very existence gets the job done.

that evening he never comes down for dinner  
that evening

that evening he takes his car out for a ride  
headlights off  
gets caught speeding and decides to see what it feels like to crash

 

wakes up in the hospital, policemen at the ready  
dad with the lawyers  
50 hours of community service  
and another trip to the therapist’s office.

 

but sometimes, some nights  
some early morning plights  
he sits alone in his room  
leaning his back against his sister’s bedroom wall  
door wedged shut with a chair or a desk

the moonlight filters in and the dust swirls in the air  
like microscopic fish, living in unknown worlds  
he breathes out and they scatter, afraid

his skin is not the red of satan  
but a melancholy violet  
filtered by the sky

 

which one is the real him?

 

his heart is a vapour  
the remnants of a wildfire

he cries himself to sleep

 

and he dreams  
he dreams that he asks himself

“do i return to the hellscape  
from where i walked in  
or do i struggle my way on  
to the brink of the cliff?“

**Author's Note:**

> i am NOT trying to excuse connor's abuse. just trying to explore him. i think he is a very interesting character and i want to see him put effort into recovery with a supportive network of friends around him.
> 
> i am also not saying that people who are mentally ill are inherently born that way; the demonic comparisons are more 1) how connor sees himself, and 2) how people on the outside looking in think of him. i myself struggle with what i believe are undiagnosed mental illnesses of some kind, and i am doing my best to figure out what they are while i go about my day-to-day life.
> 
> also if anything is weird/unrealistic that's because i don't own a leather jacket or a car etc so. just tell me and i'll try to...fix it i hguess


End file.
